THOTH & MORVEREN
Tris is behaving weirdly. Even in his semi-obsessive state, Thoth can see that: his friend is twitchier than the rabbits were when he’d first brought the fox kit home. One minute he’s grappling with the maps, waving them around and demanding to know where Thoth got them from, and the next he’s lain then down and is casually asking after his friend. The demigod gives him an odd look, unsure what might have sparked this sudden flare of changeable behaviour or what it could mean, but doesn’t pursue it. His social skills aren’t good enough to gauge what’s wrong, and the tempting pull of the maps leaves little room for much else.
“I got them from my friend,” he replies with a touch of vagueness, picking the maps up again in order to straighten them out. He lays them flat across the ‘desk’ and smooths them out with his hand, frowning wherever there’s a wrinkle which isn’t one of the designated fold lines. “He lives on Earth, so no, you don’t know him. His name is Sam.”
He says it so casually, as if having an Earthling pen-pal is the cultural norm for boys their age on Shaman. As usual, Thoth assumes that his knowledge is common knowledge and doesn’t endeavour to explain how he ended up in touch with someone from Earth or how he had managed to keep contact. Nor does he say how long he’s been in communication with him. Instead, predictably, he launches into an explanation about magic.
“Well, I suppose only deities can create true rips,” he muses. “But mini-rips, or portals, can be created by a powerful enough ordinary fairy – usually a follower of the Orbis branch – or with the aid of a wand or other magical item. Not big enough to create a lasting connection between worlds or for large forces to pass through, but big enough for a couple of teenagers. Sam would have to open a second one to get us back.”
Tristan is saved from having the ‘rips and mini-rips’ textbook quoted at him in its entirety by Morveren, who chooses that moment to jump onto the table top to try and eat the map. Thoth detaches her teeth with a flurry of scoldings, picks her up and dumps her on the ground, where she immediately runs behind his legs to hide from the puppies. A single, green eye peers around his feet at ankle-level. Nothing in Thoth’s behaviour is abnormal as he picks up the pencil again and lightly circles Westminster Abbey, explaining the map’s key in his overly elaborate way. He’s just sketching out a route between the two and verbally calculating the approximate distance when the door bangs open. As Thoth looks up and catches sight of the king in the doorway, Tristan leaps out of his seat and starts to speak, but is swiftly cut off. Thoth is not so affected. A light frown started to crease on the demigod’s forehead as his gaze travels from the king to the cu sith, before flicking briefly over to Tristan. The arising suspicions, which drawn visibly on his face, are closer to the expression both the king and prince should be well acquainted with.
Unusually, for Thoth, there is little pause while he debates whether or not to obey given orders from an adult. There’s certainly a brief moment where his eyes take on a calculating and defiant glimmer, but it couldn’t last for more than a second before he drops his hands into his still-wet pockets and strolls towards the door. Morveren scurries along at his side, pressing her body against his leg and peering nervously back at the puppies. Throughout the duration of the walk through the castle to the king’s office, Thoth neither speaks nor looks at Tristan, but he also doesn’t transmit a vibe of anger. Thoth’s fury is usually clearly felt by anyone unfortunate enough to be in the same room as him, but presently there’s no indication of anything other than a mild sense of ire.
It’s only when they’re admitted to the office and are standing before the king’s desk that he slowly and deliberately folds his arms across his chest. His coffee-brown eyes bore directly into Arthur’s grey ones, daring the monarch to try and tell him off for a crime he hasn’t committed.
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